


The Sentence

by notsafefortheworld



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ampora is kind of OOC considering they're good friends, Dubious Consent, Ferferi is the Condesce, Hemophobia, Kanaya is the referee, Mock Trial, Terezi just wants more dragons, Vriska is a Bitch, and is working on the whole 'social justice' thing, because of course she is, but I think he's an asshole enough to probably do this anyway, but he could have stopped it any time, but you can imagine someone else if you want, it was kind of sprung on him, mock sentence/punishment, or at least /A/ real dragon of her own, seriously, she's defeated the previous Condesce by now, strong dubcon, they're all adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9523724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafefortheworld/pseuds/notsafefortheworld
Summary: Karkat is terrified, even now, of his blood color being found out (despite the fact that everyone knows, despite the fact that culling no longer means death, despite the fact that he has a pardon from the Condesce herself).And what better way to quit fearing the other shoe to drop than to push it off yourself? Not, of course, that it goes anything like he expected.





	

The ampitheter, usually reserved for practice battles, isn't  _empty_ , but it isn't full, either. A group of newly-second-molt adults is loosely gathered, alternating between solemn and jeering.  
"K4RK4T V4NT4S," the blind prosecutor begins,  
"YOU H4V3 B33N FOUND GU1LTY OF A MOST H31NOUS CR1M3: OBSCUR1NG TH3 COLOR OF YOUR D3L1C1OUS BLOOD FROM NON3 OTH3R TH4N TH3 COND3SC3 H3RS3LF. 1F 1T PL34S3 H3R 1MP3R1OUS TYR4NNY, TH3 PUN1SHM3NT OF TH3 CONV1CT3D W1LL B3G1N." A regal, cold nod from Vriska, and the scowling defendent is pushed forward, hands manacled in too familiar a symbol, shaking despite himself and doing his best at hiding it.  
The precise, shallow slash across his cheek has scabbed since his sentencing (only an hour ago, an hour of cramped stomach and pounding bloodpusher in a cold, empty room, only the guard outside to keep him company).  
Terezi is the prosecuter, of course. She revels in the role, and holds near-absolute power, secondary only to Vriska, whom Feferi (wanting nothing to do with the actual proceedings, and under the condition that there be no bloodshed, or permanent harm, to any parties involved) deigned to allow imitate the role of none other than Condesce herself.  
She would've been a space pirate, but involving herself in the narrative in a position of power and maintaining some sort of sense would have been more trouble than it was worth, so.  
Condesce it is.  
Equius, of course, would neither pass up the opportunity to subjugate an 'inferior', nor to be ordered so scandalously by not one, but two, below his class. He is, functionally, the 'muscle', though really only his presence is needed, because obviously if he were to actually physically _restrain_ the defendent he would, quite literally, mangle him, gentlest intentions be damned. Nonetheless, he quite enjoys himself.  
The whole thing does not go in the _least_ how Karkat planned. He figured some whipping, maybe, or liquidplanking, or some other archaic form of torture (having growled, obviously, that he could take it.  
Precautions were to be taken regardless.)  
For one, he didn't expect the room of his punishment to look uncomfortably like something out of a troll BDSM magazine.   
  
He ends up fucked six ways to Sunday; Ampora is the first to help himself to his nook, and he's burning with shame but unwilling to admit defeat, even if it means that bulgemunching refusepile comes inside of him, half a pail's worth of genetic material sloshing out from between his forcibly spread legs, and he's bitterly wishing that it had at least been painful, not a clear mindfuck - Ampora had taken the time to retract his claws, fingering him with artificial slick (he doesn't even _want_ to know where the prick got it) instead of roughly shoving his bulge in straight-off.  
He had been foolish enough to expect that would be the end of it, that he had been humiliatingly punished enough, dripping disgustingly onto the floor (he had been bent over something, ass up in the air, and he remains bound in the same position), but apparently fucking not.  
No, Serket had to have her fun as well.  
She had stripped almost leisurely, a sharkish smile on her face the entire time, before coaxing her bulge out to wave in his face.  
She had informed him with all the good cheer of a kismesis getting one up on you (not that they were, or ever would be) that if she felt teeth, she would personally make him bite off his own wordmuscle, and quite possibly a few of his touchstubs. His teeth grit, but he allows himself only a glance toward the 'referee', refusing to give in.  
The fury and embarassment don't abate in the least as she shoves her bulge down his throat, and he's not sure if he wouldn't have preferred choking to her finishing on his face.   
He glares in response to her smug grin, refusing to concede victory (despite the fact that she has very clearly won).  
Another person, then another, fuck him, and he comes during the next, shudderingly, spent and unable to continue. He meets the gaze of the referee, signals them; they call it to a close, and he's unlocked from the position, a draping sheet given to cover himself (face burning, he accepts it, though there's hardly a point - even if he hadn't been on display moments prior, the cum and sweat cause it to stick to him indecently, to the point where he's not sure if he wouldn't be better off naked, but unwilling to relinquish the meager cover it provides nonetheless after feeling so exposed) after being helped up.  
Serket is conspicuously absent, which he would notice if he could raise his ocular globes to anywhere in the room besides the fluid beginning to seep through the sheet at a point above his thigh. He feels absolutely filthy. He feels punished. He feels...embarrased, furious, and then both of those again in staggering amounts.  
He feels fear of rejection.  
Noticeably absent, however, is weight he's carried since he learned of the hemospectrum and his place on it.  
Not the entirety of it, certainly. But a good portion of it is gone, filled instead with his trademark fury.  
Kanaya is the one to guide him to the ablution block, the hallway to which is suspiciously clear (he isn't sure whether to be pissed or not that Serket and Terezi planned it this far, so he is, just to be safe), and offers to cuddle once he's clean and outside his respite block. He declines, and she informs him that if he has any sort of trouble whatsoever, particularly of the emotional kind, he had better pesterchum her or she won't let him out of her sight for a week. He concedes with a glare and a softly slammed door.  
He could (and should) be decompressing after such a shocking, frankly terrifying, and humiliating event.  
But he has better things to do, such as plan revenge on a certain spiderbitch.


End file.
